Cat's Out...a Darla The Alpha Cat Novel

Chapter 14 - the hunt

The deep engine pulls me far from Choppy's. I stop before making a turn off the main road and listen to make sure I've got the bearings.

"Darla!"

Crap on a kitten. Antonio is racing up the middle of the street, something that would have gotten him run over not so long ago.

He waves his arms at me. "Stop! You can't do this!"

"Watch me!"

"They'll kill you!" He's within normal speaking range, but he's still yelling at the top of his lungs.

"And they'll kill my friend if I do nothing." I'm not sure whether to throttle him or thank him. Which side is he on? "If you know where they are, better tell me now." I'm still not positive that the engine I'm following is the right one.

He stops in front of me, panting like a dog. "I don't know exactly, but probably that way, toward some abandoned buildings. Warehouses and stuff." He points in the direction I'd been tracking the engine. It sounds like it's directly down the street we're standing on.

"Okay, then. Wish me luck."

"Darla, you can't!"

"I am."

"I'm coming with you."

"If you can keep up." And I'm off again. A little gasp escapes him as I speed away. I could cover the distance faster if I transformed. Assuming I could make it happen. But I still don't trust myself. Whether those punks deserve it or not, I don't want to be responsible for their slaughter. And maybe even Jack's.

More buildings zip by as I run, staying to the middle of the road. Why not? I'm the only one on it. Cars line the streets, but dust and grime covers their windshields. It really is like a scene out of a zombie apocalypse movie, except the apocalypse only covers a few square miles of Detroit.

But how far will it spread?

I sniff the air as I run, hoping to catch Jack's scent again. Nothing but grime and oil. Not even food smells. I hadn't caught that before.

The engine sound grows as I close in. It can't be more than a few hundred yards ahead. I push myself harder. Closer. I'm almost on it.

The engine stops.

Damn!

But I keep running. Three large gray buildings loom ahead on my left. A row of smaller shops sit on the right. She could be in any one of those. I take a long sniff. If they take her out of the car, maybe I'll catch her scent.

I slow to a fast walk and study each building. They're all very old and very empty. Where are you, Jack?

A scream. Followed by another.

I spin left. It's coming from the last empty building on my left. And it's huge. Broken windows line the top. Graffiti covers every inch from the ground up to ten feet or so. Dry weeds line the base. A truck entrance is open off the street. I trot toward it and poke my head through the door.

The inside of the building is cavernous. An old warehouse, like Antonio said. The roof is alive with pigeons resting on beams. Their deposits cover the floor up to what must be an inch thick. I curl my nose. The smell is overwhelming. But through it, I smell the bath soaps. Beneath that, Jack's natural scent.

I hug the wall as I slip inside. The  Yukon is parked at the far end of the building. I inch along the wall, listening. But all has gone quiet. Smaller doors come into view. Offices must line the opposite side of the Warehouse. She could be in any one of those.

I take a few more steps, testing the air as I go. I can't smell or hear anyone nearby. They must feel safe here. No lookouts like at the butcher shop. The wall is cool and rough against my body as I hug it close, trying to blend in. I'm way too exposed here. Ahead of me is a huge cylinder with a motor at the base of it. I test the air again. Nothing.

Each step takes an eternity, but I can't rush. If they see or hear me, they may kill her before I get a chance to stop them. The cylinder towers in front of me. It must be twenty feet high. I step to the right to get around it. Another step. Test the air.

Another.

Something falls around  my neck and cinches tight.

I drop my bat and grab at the cold steel cable. A figure dressed in a yellow suit covering his head and body steps in front of me. A bag drops over my head. Two hands grab my wrists and pull them away. Before I can do anything, what feels like a dozen hands and ropes tie up my limbs.

Within seconds I'm helpless. Now's the time, I think. Change. Do it. But I don't know if, even then, I can get free. If I can't, they'll kill me for sure. I calm my breathing and my heart. I try to speak but the cable around my neck cuts off the air.

I'm dragged through the warehouse, held on all sides by steel and rope, then shoved into a chair, where I hear chains being fastened all around me. A door slams shut. I hear nothing. Smell only the old building. The bag blocks my sight. But at least they loosened the leash and I can breath. Judging by the way they caught me, they learned their lesson from last night.

I, apparently, had not.

And if they know how to hold me, they probably know how to kill me.